


Yours Always

by Eienvine



Series: Yours [3]
Category: Enola Holmes (2020)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27646237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eienvine/pseuds/Eienvine
Summary: This has been the happiest day of Enola and Tewky’s lives. It remains to be seen, however, if their families feel the same.Tag for "Yours Truly."
Relationships: Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury
Series: Yours [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018234
Comments: 40
Kudos: 265





	Yours Always

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, the reactions of their families! At present, this is all I have written related to my Yours Truly story, but I can't promise I won't think of something else I want to write later. :D

. . . . . .

Enola Holmes has been an engaged woman for just over twenty-four hours, and it has been the happiest day of her life.

Which is a surprising thing to say, actually, because in some ways it’s rather an unpleasant day, based mostly on the reactions of her loved ones to her news.

Sherlock is baffled at her announcement, as he sees little use in marriage himself; he has always tried to be supportive of her decisions, however, so while she can see in his eyes that he doesn’t understand her choice, he informs her that if she is happy, he will be happy for her. And Mrs. Hudson is vastly pleased for her (and pleased to be so closely connected to a future marchioness), but she gives Enola quite a lecture about having always insisted that Tewky was simply a professional associate, which is clearly not true if they are now engaged, and have they been carrying on under her roof all this  _ while, _ this is a  _ respectable  _ establishment, if she had known they were courting she would have insisted on acting as a chaperon. The woman can give quite a scold, when she puts her mind to it.

And those are among the more positive reactions she receives.

The morning after she and Tewky become engaged, he’s at Baker Street before they’ve even breakfasted, and they manage to get in exactly one kiss in before Mrs. Hudson comes bustling in with the toast and immediately lectures them on how she cannot leave them alone for one minute before they’ve got their hands on each other. (Enola is suddenly very glad that she insisted on a very short engagement, for she does not know how much of Mrs. Hudson’s fussing she can take.)

Sherlock has volunteered to come with them on the day’s errands for moral support—it makes Enola smile to think of how much her brother has changed and softened in the five years since she first came to live with him—so the three of them hail a cab and travel to Edith Grayston’s tea shop to leave a message for Sherlock and Enola’s mother. Edith is unreservedly happy for Enola and Tewky—the only person so far who has been—which makes her more forthcoming than she normally is: she informs them that Eudoria is expected for a judo lesson at lunchtime.

So they go to visit Mycroft next. He is also delighted at the news, but it’s not the kind of genuine, selfless joy that Edith had in the announcement.

“A marchioness?” he repeats. “My little sister? I did not think you had it in you, Enola. Well done. I shall be glad to see you a respectable lady at last.” And then he looks up at Tewky. “Lord Basilwether,” he says obsequiously, “so glad to have you in the family. I have always thought we could work well together. Accomplish so much, given our positions in the government. We could . . . help each other.”

Enola, her jaw tightening in irritation, looks around and is pleased to see that both of her companions look equally annoyed. “Enola has always been a respectable lady,” Tewky says sharply. “And my work in the House of Lords will go on the same as it always has: motivated by the dictates of my own conscience, and by what I think will bring equality to all residents of this nation.”

“Well said, Basilwether,” says Sherlock, and Enola agrees and squeezes her fiancé’s hand.

The meeting with Eudoria does not go any better: Enola’s mother stares blankly at her, and then at Tewky, and then at Sherlock. Enola prays her mother will just congratulate them and be done with it, but Eudoria will be Eudoria: “Are you certain this is what you want, Enola? You truly believe that is the best use of your time? Your life? Your potential?”

“I am certain this is what I want,” Enola says steadily, “and I do not see it in any way affecting my potential. I will continue to work as I have done, and I will support my husband in his work as he will support me in mine.”

“I suppose I must congratulate you, then,” says her mother, but it is clear her heart is not in it.

Enola pretends it does not bother her, but she clearly hasn’t fooled her fiancé, for in the cab home, he puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close to his side, pressing his lips to her hair (it amazes her how quickly she has become accustomed to being in his arms). The doubts that had begun to creep up are immediately banished, and she smiles and relaxes into Tewky’s embrace, and she sees from Sherlock’s face that even he is a little moved by their affection for each other.

And it is that affection that has made this the happiest day of Enola’s life, despite the mixed reactions from her family. Tewky’s arms around her—his lips on her skin—his hand in hers—all of these fill her with a sense she has not had since her sixteenth birthday: like she has come home, and will never be lost and alone again. She never thought herself the marrying type; indeed, she was once vehemently against the idea. But Tewky has changed that, with his goodness and his steadiness and his loving heart and his beautiful face and that way he has of looking at her like she is the most wonderful thing in the entire world. (How fortunate that one is allowed to change one’s opinions, that twenty-one-year-old Enola is allowed to ignore what sixteen-year-old Enola would have to say on the matter and become engaged to the young man who has slowly worked his way into her heart and soul and made a permanent place for himself there.)

Even Mrs. Hudson’s stern chaperonage cannot ruin her mood, for just to be in the same room as Tewky, working on their correspondence and sending each other the occasional smile, fills her with a joy that makes this dreary November day feel like a June morning in the Basilwether gardens.

He is currently writing to his mother, acquainting her with what has happened and asking what she thinks of their plan to marry at Christmas. When it is done, he decides to have a footman from his London house personally deliver it to Basilwether house. “If I leave now, the letter can be to my mother by late afternoon,” he explains. “I told her we would like an answer as soon as possible as to when we can begin our lives together.”

Mrs. Hudson does not object to Enola seeing Tewky off by herself, so the newly engaged couple walk down to the entryway together while the landlady tidies up the kitchen upstairs.

“You told your mother we don’t mean to make things difficult for her with such a short engagement?” Enola asks.

“I did.”

“And . . . you’re certain she’s going to be happy about this?”

“Enola,” he laughs, “my mother adores you. She once called you ‘the most delightful young lady of her acquaintance.’ She asked me months ago when I was going to propose to you.”

Enola nods, but she cannot quite bring herself to believe it. She adores Lady Tewkesbury—Caroline, she reminds herself, the lady insists Enola call her Caroline—but she has never forgotten that Caroline Linfield is the widow of a viscount and mother of a marquess, that she is elegant and poised and has never dressed as a boy or blown up a warehouse or gone undercover as a gravedigger or started a fistfight with a one-legged sailor in a dockside tavern. She supposes there is some part of her that fears that Caroline likes her only because she doesn’t know her well enough to realize she shouldn’t.

Tewky must see all this in her eyes, because he insists again, “She adores you. And even if she didn’t—but she does—it would not matter because  _ I  _ adore you, and I am the one who is going to marry you, no matter what anyone else says.”

Enola’s anxiety clears, and she feels bold enough to tease again. “No matter what anyone says? No matter what I say?”

“You already agreed to marry me,” he says reasonably, but then his grin falters. “Although . . . if you did change your mind . . .”

“I’m not going to change my mind,” she informs him stoutly.

He nods, but does not look as reassured as she would like.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do,” he insists. “I just . . . I was a little worried earlier. I was rather pushy last night; I would hate to think you agreed only because I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s fond, not sarcastic. “Do you really think I’m that easily pushed around?”

He hesitates, and then grins, confidence beginning to flow back into his expression. “No, you are not easily pushed around.”

This could be the end of the conversation, but she wants him to feel absolutely certain, to never again worry that she’s not as committed to this as he is. “Tewky—William—” He grins at hearing his given name from her lips. “I sent that letter hoping you would come to London and kiss me again. But I also sent it hoping, deep down, that you would come to London and tell me you wanted never to be without me, as I want never to be without you. And I knew that would involve marriage. The thought frightened me a little, to be honest, for I never thought to marry—I never thought I would meet a man I trusted and esteemed enough to put myself so entirely in his hands. Even so, I sent that letter hoping that you would come here and convince me that you were that man and that I could safely spend the rest of my life with you. That you loved me enough to marry me and you were certain we would make each other happy.”

Tewky blinks rapidly a few times, and then he steps forward to press his forehead to Enola’s and curl one hand around the back of her neck. “I do,” he says in a husky voice that reverberates all down Enola’s spine, “and I am.”

She feels a grin spread across her face, so wide and fervent that it nearly hurts. “Me too. And I’m not frightened anymore. I’m certain.”

He closes the gap between them and gives Enola a goodbye kiss that has her toes curling in her boots. And she knows then it does not matter to her what either of their families might say, or what she herself had to say about marriage when she was younger: she is going to marry William Linfield if it kills her.

. . . . . .

Tewky returns within the hour, and they spend the rest of the afternoon going over case files with Sherlock. Enola and Sherlock often go over their case files together, having come to value each other’s insights and perspectives, and they’ve had Tewky join them on multiple occasions. He hasn’t the keen mind of the Holmes siblings, but they have learned over the years that he brings a unique perspective to their cases, and has in fact cracked a few in his time by coming up with an obscure fact about flora or pointing out a connection between two people that they were not aware of.

Later they have a very happy dinner together at Baker Street, and have just settled down for an evening of word games (Tewky always loses to the Holmes siblings, but is a very good sport about playing anyway) when there is a knock on the front door.

“That had better not be Mycroft,” Enola mutters as they listen to Mrs. Hudson answer the door.

Whatever is said at the front door is too low to be heard in 221B, but a few moments later, Mrs. Hudson leads the way into the parlor, with Caroline and Whimbrel Linfield trailing behind her.

“Mother!” Tewky exclaims in delight and surprise.

Enola is surprised to see them as well; she’d supposed there was a high likelihood of Caroline coming to London, but she’d thought it wouldn’t be until tomorrow. And she certainly hadn’t expected Lord Whimbrel.

And when the Baker Street party has risen to their feet, Caroline surprises them again: she bypasses her son in favor of striding over to Enola and wrapping her in a warm embrace.

“Oh, my dear girl,” she says, “I cannot tell you how happy I was to receive William’s letter.” She pulls back to look fondly at Enola, and to smooth a rogue curl away from her face. “I have been hoping for so long that I could someday call you my daughter-in-law.” Then she hugs her again, and Enola is surprised to feel a hard knot in her chest breaking loose and drifting away, like a chunk of ice on a thawing river. She did not realize, until this moment, just how much she had worried about getting Caroline’s approval. And she did not realize how much she had wanted just one of their family members to be truly, unreservedly happy about this marriage. So she wraps her arms around her future mother-in-law and hugs her tightly.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely into Caroline’s shoulder. “You have been a dear friend to me for a very long time, and I cannot think of anyone else I would rather have as a mother-in-law.”

Caroline just hugs her tighter.

When they separate, Enola is not surprised to see that both Tewky and Caroline have tears in their eyes; she realized long ago that her fiancé inherited his propensity for displays of emotion from his mother. And now Caroline must embrace her son—both of them now wiping tears from their cheeks—and Whimbrel approaches her.

She isn’t certain what kind of welcome to expect from the man; she’s always gotten the impression that her tolerates her, rather than likes her. So she’s quite surprised when he clasps her hands in his and warmly welcomes her to the family.

“Thank you, Lord Whimbrel,” she says, blinking.

“Oh, you must call me Uncle Whimbrel, as William does,” he says, and then leans back to examine her. “You look rather stunned, Miss Holmes.”

Enola decides that honesty is the best policy. “I had not expected you to approve, I must admit. I know I am not who anyone expects a marquess to marry.”

And dignified Lord Whimbrel Linfield lets out a most undignified snort of laughter. “You are certainly not that,” he agrees. “But you are something much better: you are what William wants. You make him happy. And after . . .” He sighs. “After everything, with my mother and my poor brother, William deserves happiness.” And now he is smiling again. “And I am certain that with you around, life at Basilwether House will never be dull.”

“I believe I can guarantee that,” agrees Enola. “And if I am to call you Uncle Whimbrel, you must call me Enola.”

He smiles.

“Come, Enola,” Caroline says, “we must start planning right away if we are to have a wedding ready for Christmas. William says you two have elected to be married from Basilwether House, is that correct?”

Enola goes to sit by her future mother-in-law, with Tewky sitting on her other side, holding her hand. Uncle Whimbrel joins Sherlock at the table, clearly for lack of anything better to do, and after a moment they begin playing the word game that had been set up but not started.

Enola looks from her brother, to her future uncle, to her future mother, to her future husband, and she finds herself smiling. She smiles when Caroline agrees that they can certainly be married as soon as Christmas, if they would like to be. She smiles when Tewky squeezes her hand and fervently insists that yes, that is exactly what they want. She smiles when Uncle Whimbrel somehow, impossibly, beats Sherlock at their game, and Sherlock stares down at the pieces as though they have personally betrayed him.

And she smiles as she thinks to herself how glad she is that she had the courage to send Tewky that letter.

. . . . . .

fin


End file.
